


~*SUPERNATURAL*~

by laulan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-19
Updated: 2009-10-19
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10048439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laulan/pseuds/laulan
Summary: Dean and Sam work a case, over-the-top parody style.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Man oh man. This is just... so much crack. Sooooo much crack. It was originally supposed to be Supernatural written in the style of Twilight, which is to say: a) with excessive reference to physical appearances, complete with overblown similes, b) with no swearing, and c) with bad grammar. It quickly degenerated from there into complete ridiculousness. It definitely did not end up in the style of Twilight, but it did end up being... _something_. 
> 
> One more note: This story was written quite a long time ago and there was not much conscious thought put into my portrayal of the third character. But there is a harmful trend of queer people being portrayed in villainous roles in fiction and I wanted to acknowledge that this work may accidentally play into that trend. At the time it didn't strike me as a problem because it's such a ridiculous, nonsensical fic, but these days I try to be more conscious of things like that even in "jokes," so would most likely not write a similar villain. I hope no one is hurt by it and sincerely apologize if that is not the case.

Sam Winchester walked his beautiful-ass self out of the motel room. He was as graceful as a giant panther, but he carried an emotional burden heavier than the biggest rock on Earth on his shoulders. It wasn’t easy. Just by looking at him, you could tell he was in a lot of pain. Pain that was eating him up inside. Glistening tear tracks marked his handsome face, the memories of a love long lost were clear in his sad mouth.

"DEAN!" he screeched back at the motel room, voice as golden as butter. "LET'S TALK! WE NEVER TALK ABOUT OUR **FEELINGS**!"

Dean Winchester walked out of the room and up to his brother in slow-motion, hair ruffling as if an invisible wind was blowing behind his glorious, strong body. His green eyes glowed like precious emeralds. "What," he grunted. (Beautifully.)

Sam looked his brother in his eyes in a very soulful manner. “Dean,” he said, clutching his brother’s manly arm. “I miss Jessica. I’m going to find Dad so that I can kill the thing that killed her because it just makes me so angry that I can’t think of anything else. Please, Dean, come with me and find Dad.” He wiped a stream of fresh tears from his cheeks, face as resolute as a mountain crag.

Dean frowned. It was a beautiful frown. You could have written a thousand sonnets to that frown. He shook his brother’s shoulder in an amazing display of male vitality.

“You know we can’t do that, Sammy,” he rumbled, voice sounding deeper than the bottom of the ocean.

“It’s Sam,” Sam interjected bitchily.

Dean ignored him, like a real man. “We can’t go find Dad, because he gave us an order not to. And you know what happens when we don’t follow Dad’s orders.” He stared deep into Sam’s eyes as if to impart the meaning of a thousand centuries into them. They sparkled in the sun.

But Sam was in pain, darnit, and he _could not handle this._ “ _What_ happens, Dean?!” he screamed. “AS FAR AS I CAN TELL, NOTHING HAPPENS. DAD DOESN’T KNOW EVERYTHING, YOU KNOW!”

Dean gasped, and stared at Sam as if he’d never seen him before. Even though they were brothers, so he had certainly seen him before. That’s why it was a big deal, to act as if he’d never seen him before.

“Sam,” he said, hurt in his deep growly voice. “How could you say that? Of _course_ Dad knows everything.” Tears were beginning to gather in Dean’s perfect eyes. There were few things that hurt him, but insulting his brother or dad were two. His soul was fragile when it came to them, like a big glass ornament.

Sam opened his beautifully expressive mouth to argue, but just then they both heard a sound in the corner of the parking lot. They whipped around and stared at the spot where they’d heard it, but nothing stood there. Nothing.

Dean turned to his brother, face serious. “Sam, we have a job to do. You can’t leave me now.” His dogged determination showed in his face.

Sam crossed his arms. “Fine, then I’m leaving RIGHT AFTER.” He wiped away some more tears, revealing his perfectly smooth, perfectly tanned skin. “Now let’s kill this gosh-darned thing.”

Dean nodded seriously. “Okay. Let’s go to the diner and get some information.”

He floated away on bowlegs as strong as trees. Sam stood for a moment more, resolutely facing the sun with his sculpted body. “We’ll kill this thing,” he said to no one. “Kill it good.” He swung around resolutely and followed his brother.

They got to the diner and they ate a lot of food while Dean interrogated the other diners with his hypnotizing eyes. (Not that he could actually hypnotize people. That was Sam’s job, only Sam liked to call it “dazzling” because he thought it sounded less evil. Dean’s eyes were just very beautiful. Not that Sam’s weren’t, because they were, too. Everyone had beautiful, beautiful eyes.)

They got out that the monster was mysterious. Three men had been kidnapped, but no one seemed to know where the attacks were coming from. Or worse . . . _why_ . . .

They left the diner. They were almost in a worse position than before, because now they knew that there was nothing left to know about the monster.

“Dean,” Sam said, “what are we going to—“

He never got the last words out. Something big and sparkly wrapped Dean in its arms and flounced off, disappearing faster than the blink of an eye.

Sam flung his arms out and looked around wildly for Dean. “DEAN!” he called. Nothing answered. He sunk to his knees in sudden, crushing despair. No, _no!_ This couldn’t be happening!

“I WON’T LET YOU TAKE MY BROTHER,” he screamed loudly. He ran off in the direction that his feelings told him to. He knew it was the right direction, just _knew_ it. He had to save Dean!

Within five minutes he had spotted a trail of glitter, and was following it very closely. It led up to a big building that looked like it had been a brothel, but was now quite run-down. Sam shoved through the NO TRESPASSING barriers with his big, broad shoulders and burst through the rotting wood planks looking like a superhero.

“DEAN?” he yelled.

“SAM!” he heard faintly. “I’m in the theater!”

Sam raced to the theater as quickly as his gloriously long legs would take him. Gosh, he was so strong. He burst through the theater door, too, and saw Dean sitting on the stage tied up in a bunch of pink scarves.

“What happened?!” he demanded, rushing over to pull the scarves off.

“It’s the ghost of a drag queen! A VENGEFUL drag queen,” Dean explained in a low, meaningful voice. “Right before she died, someone called her ugly, and she’s all crazy-revenge.”

Sam gasped. It made so much sense!

“It’s the emoest ghost ever, Sam. What are we gonna do?” Dean asked, voice gruff with manly distress. His freckles sparkled with the glitter the drag queen had smeared on his face.

Sam drew himself up to his full height. “Don’t worry, Dean. No one can out-emo me.”

Just then, the drag queen ghost showed up. “Pretty boys must diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie,” she belted out in a once-beautiful voice. Her eyeliner dripped eerily down her cheeks. “No one must be prettierrrrrrrr than meeeeeee.”

Sam threw a handful of rock salt in his pocket at her, tears streaming from his eyes. “You can’t take my brother! He’s ALL I HAVE LEFT!”

The power of Sam’s tears interacted with the rock salt smell in the air, and the ghost spontaneously exploded from the emo.

Dean and Sam were left standing on the stage. “Well,” Dean said, shrugging. His face looked beautiful, like always. “I guess that’s it. You still going to find Dad?”

“No. You’re all I have left, Dean—“

“NO TALKING ABOUT FEELINGS,” Dean said, frowning gorgeously.

Sam pouted, and cherubs sang at the amazingness of his face. “Fine. Let’s go be manly in the car.”

“Okay.”

THE END


End file.
